SECOND OOPV, 
1899. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap...'. Copyright No. 

Sheif.„!l^_. 



V 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



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TACT. 



The Temple Series* 

Dainty cloth bindings. Illustrated. 
Price, S5 cents each, postpaid, 

GOLDEN COUNSELS. 

Dwight L. Moody. 
WELL-BUILT. 

Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler, D. D. 
HELPS UPWARD. 

Rev. Wayland Hoyt, D. D. 
A FENCE OF TRUST. {Poems.) 

Mary F. Butts. 
PLUCK AND PURPOSE. 

William M. Thayer. 
LITTLE SERMONS FOR ONE. 

Amos R. Wells. 

WISE LIVING. 

Rev. George C. Lorimer, D. D. 
THE INDWELLING GOD. 

Rev. Charles A. Dickinson, D. D. 

TACT. 

Kate Sanborn. 

ANSWERED! 

Rev. J. Wilbur Chapman, D. D., 
Rev. R. A. Torrey, D. D., Rev. 
C. H. Yatman, Rev. Edgar E. 
Davidson, Thomas E. Murphy, 
and Rev. A. C. Dixon, D. D. 
In preparation, volumes by Rev. James 
Stalker, D. D., and Rev. F. W. 
Gunsaulus, D. D. 



United Society of Christian Endeavor. 

Boston and Chicago. 




KATE SANBORN. 



' %,,^^e^S^^(r^'^^S^J>%J220^^^^'^:^s,^ ' 



Tact 



and Other Essays 



Kate Sanborn 




United Society of Christian Endeavor 
Boston and Chicago 



T3 



38234 



Copyright, i8gg 

BY THE 

United Society of Christian Endeavor 



■ ViD COF i £: <3 i-< ii 'w „ s V £ ij - 



/^ 



{'"'■ ;.ud8 ) 



Colonicd Press : 
Electrotyped and Printed by 
C. H. Shnonds &^ Co. 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 






CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Tact as a Virtue 7 

11. Making Friends of Books . . .16 

III. Fashion and How Far to Follow It . 24 

rv. Two Ways of Taking Sorrow . .31 

V. The Art of Making Gifts . . .38 



TACT. 



I. 



TACT AS A VIRTUE. 




*IACT is a virtue ; yes, and not only a 
virtue, but a necessity, if you want 
to be agreeable, influential, and be- 
loved in this world, where all are 
more or less egotistic, sensitive, long- 
ing for kindness, and quick to take offence or 
feel hurt. 

" What do you suppose that young Smilax said 
to me yesterday at Mrs. Poinscttia's reception ? " 
asked a friend of me. Of course I could not 
even imagine the enormity of his offence, and 
she explained. 

" You remember the society column of The 
Evening Catchet announced that I was quite 
indisposed last week. I saw that dreadful Miss 
Snapitup at the door, and sent down word I had 
a ' very severe headache.' Well, T should have 



8 TACT. 

had one if she had got in. And, as I greeted 
that disgusting Smilax, he said in his smart and 
pretentious way, ' Why, I'm really rejoiced to see 
you out, Mrs. Prospew, and just as handsome and 
rosy as ever. I noticed that you were unable to 
receive last Wednesday, and I said to myself 
only yesterday, " Now shall I buy a big bunch of 
Russian violets for dear Mrs. Prospew, or go to 
Young's for a good dinner for myself ? " ' And, 
smiling broadly as if he were the prince of 
humor, ' I decided to take in the dinner.' I said, 
' You are very thoughtful, Mr. Smilax,' and 
passed on. He will never be admitted to my 
house after such a display of selfishness and 
utter lack of tact." 

" But," said I, after a good laugh at the situa- 
tion, " I have worse things than that said to me 
very often, and by people of high position and 
unusual culture. For instance, I gave a large 
reception last week, and several dear friends 
received with me ; the ' pourers ' were four pretty 
young girls, who were charmingly gowned, and 
they did prove a decided attraction. One ex- 
ceedingly distinguished and scholarly man re- 
turned to us after enjoying a cup of coffee and 
the prettiness of my lovely assistants, and in- 
quired very distinctly, ' How is it that you have 
all the youth, grace, and beauty in the other 



TACT AS A VIRTUE. 9 

room ? ' And, looking down upon me, rendered 
absurdly broad by the enormous sleeves now a 
necessity, he added, ' You seem a good deal 
stouter than when we last met.' And obesity 
is my horror, the enemy I continually fight. He 
was utterly unconscious of his blunders, and 
evidently was pleased with his own wit." 

Tact is literally, to all, a delicacy of manipula- 
tion ; some have it as a natural gift ; with others, 
it is thoughtfulness cultivated ; and there are 
some good-natured blunderers, who are utterly 
destitute of this desirable quality, and never can 
attain it, reminding me of my big St. Bernard, 
who switches his magnificent plumed tail in my 
face for joy at being let out, or knocks me down 
when darting past me to chase a cat, but who 
would not hurt me for the world. 

I wonder whether I have more of these tact- 
less speeches made to me than are made to most 
people. An artist, who had not been a great 
success, and was changing his specialty from 
landscapes to portraits, trying to better his for- 
tune, remarked ingenuously to me that he had 
been deliberating whether or not to ask me to sit 
to him for a picture. He did not know whether 
I was really sufficiently well known to make the 
work pay, as an advertisement of his art, of 
course ! When one realizes what a tedious bore 



10 TACT. 

it would be to " sit " twice a week for some time, 
in grand toilet and uncomfortable pose, trying to 
look easy and fascinating, but feeling stiff and 
tired and unhappy, it did seem preposterous 
audacity, the height of self-engrossed boorish- 
ness. But he felt that he was paying me a very 
pretty compliment. 

A literary friend sitting near me at a large 
lunch party said, when I remarked on the wonder- 
ful longevity of a relative, " She must be pretty 
old to be your grandmother," I laughed with 
the others, nor did I retort saucily, as I should 
have done years ago, that some one had asked 
me lately whether that lanky woman that went 
everywhere with Jack Pastel was his wife or his 
mother. Yes, I saw the point, and felt it also ; 
for no woman likes to be publicly twitted about 
her advancing years. Such jocosity is neither 
wit nor tact. 

Tact is sometimes better than talent or genius 
in winning one's way, and the lack of it has 
ruined the fortunes of many a young man and 
yomig woman who have wondered and lamented 
hopelessly over their lack of luck. 

An old clergyman, always more devoted to 
scriptural research and exegesis in his study 
than to pastoral duties, once surprised a friend 
of mine by calling early in the afternoon, and 



TACT AS A VIRTUE. 11 

remained chatting most agreeably for half an 
hour. She began to repent of her bitter remarks 
and severe censures of his indifference to his 
flock, when he rose, and remarked, " Well, I 
j,niess the mail will be open by this time ; they 
told me it was thirty minutes late, so I dropped 
in here to wait." By his utter lack of tact he 
lost the credit of a call, and provoked a sensitive 
parishioner still more by using her parlor and 
taking her time while he waited for his letters. 

Once after performing the marriage ceremony 
for a rosebud of a girl, the pet of the village, 
a^d a noble, scholarly physician, who justly felt 
that no honor could be too great for his darling, 
Tie had the good taste to kiss her beautiful lips 
appreciatively, and then more than spoiled the 
effect of the compliment by turning round with 
a sonorous hawk, and spitting in the fire ! The 
bride tells of that bit of boorishness to-day with 
unfailing mirth, although she is now a gray- 
haired widow. 

At the funeral of a lamented saint he once 
selected a hymn as inappropriate as 

" Laden with guilt and many woes, 
Down to the grave the sinner goes." 

He is long since dead himself. His learning 
is forgotten, while his bad manners are still 



12 TACT. 

talked about and laughed over. Better less 
solitary erudition and more practical tact. 

You have heard of the two wise men consulted 
by a Sultan when distressed by a dream. One 
explained it as an evil omen, that it meant that 
the Sultan would see all his kindred die. The 
wise man's head was soon off. The second de- 
clared that the omen was most beneficent, " for 
it means, Sultan, long life to thee, so long that 
thou shalt outlive all of thy kin." He was richly 
rewarded. 

A lady, disappointed by the failure of the most 
distinguished artist to appear at her musical en- 
tertainment, called upon a young lady to sing, 
who was still a pupil, but unusually gifted. 
After much persuasion she reluctantly consented 
from pure amiability. As she left, madam blandly 
remarked, " Thank you, dear, for trying to sing." 

Some good people pride themselves on their 
frankness and strict adherence to truth, and suc- 
ceed in making themselves abhorred for their 
inexcusable, cruel bluntness. If a pretty girl, 
waking on her wedding morn, found that she 
had a disfiguring cold-sore or pimple on lips or 
nose, how many of her friends would have the 
tact not to notice it ? 

There are yet others who seem to delight in 
bringing up sad family histories, loss of money 



TACT AS A VIRTUE. 13 

or reputation, lugging out the worst old skeleton 
of all, and giving it a savage rattle, probing old 
wounds, piercing sorrowing hearts by severe crit- 
icism on dead friends. Truth is a dangerous 
weapon in the hands of a tactless and heartless 
person. Even a cat objects to being rubbed the 
wrong way. 

Children should be carefully and daily trained 
in this virtue, which emanates from the Golden 
Rule. Then there would be less friction in fami- 
lies and more harmony in social life. 

" I hate you," said a Beacon Street dame the 
other day to an old friend who was calling on 
her. " Yes, I hate you, because you don't grow 
old, and I do." Better to learn the " art of put- 
ting things," and say, « Do tell me the secret of 
perpetual youth, for you certainly possess it," and 
give a pretty and truthful compliment instead of 
a verbal blow. 

How quickly defects and fading charms and 
lack of success are noted and emphasized by our 
dearest friends! Invalids are especial martyrs 
to the lack of tact ; every year many are killed 
by brutal truths, or by lack of tenderness, or by 
a feeling that they are a burden. 

" Tack," one woman pronounces it, and it is a 
good way, for it is often a duty to tack and veer 
and change our course to avoid collision. 



14 TACT. 

" Does the grave look pleasant to you ? " in- 
quired a sympathetic visitor of a nervous suf- 
ferer, who was hoping to regain health. 

An aunt of mine, in a dangerous condition 
from dropsy, received this cheering remark from 
a lady that dropped in to cheer her up : " Dear 
me ! How dreadfully you do look ! I do hope and 
pray that you'll die before you burst ! " These 
people were both well educated, well meaning, 
and religious ; and I have no doubt that every 
reader can recall remarks equally devoid of de- 
cency from the same kind of people. 

In home life tact is the lubricant, the oiled 
feather, that makes all the complicated machin- 
ery glide smoothly. Do not laugh at little Nell's 
red head, or Tom's big nose, or tell your wife 
that she toes in, or does not do her hair up as 
becomingly as that stylish Mrs. Fritter from the 
city. Do not lose your temper over discussion 
of religion or politics. 

Learn to admire rather than criticise, to say 
something pleasant instead of finding fault. 
When rebuked yourself, turn the tables with a 
compliment ; like the aged Fontenelle, who was 
reproached by a pretty girl for not looking as he 
passed by her. " If I had looked^ I should not 
have passed ! " said the gallant nonagenarian. 

Tact in diplomatic life attains the dignity of 



TACT AS A VIRTUE. 15 

an art. But for our every-day existence let us 
all try to cultivate it as a virtue, following 
Longfellow, who wrote in his journal at the be- 
ginning of a new year, " We have but one life 
here on earth ; we must make that beautiful." 



II. 



MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 




;HEN one writes about books as 
friends, comforters, teachers, guides, 
or as the means of actual support, 
he or she usually quotes too largely 
from what wise men and women 
have said on the subject. Would all that mass 
of quotation really influence one person to make 
friends of books ? I want to be entirely prac- 
tical, and hope to rouse not a few young people 
so that they will consider what it is best for 
them to do in regard to books, and then will 
begin to do it at once. 

Being "bookish" or pedantic is simply being 
a bore, and impertinently tedious. There are 
too many apparently anxious to tell all they 
know of a subject, no matter how they tire their 
audience, who, possibly, are fully as well in- 
formed on the same theme. 

One woman that I remember used to read, 
read, read, and then talk, talk, talk, on what she 

16 



MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 17 

had read, read, read. She crammed for effect. 
She used books as politicians use their friends, 
to climb up by them to fame and distinction. 
She enjoyed the brilliant, unending monologue, 
but we were martyrs. 

Horace Walpole was at one time her idol ; his 
life, his letters, his sayings, his home, his inti- 
mates — she seemed to have the entire seven 
volumes committed to memory. No one could 
wedge in a remark, or stop the torrent. But at 
one dinner party she was courteously, but firmly, 
squelched by the accomplished hostess, who re- 
marked, as the guest opened the floodgates, and 
was endeavoring to fix all present with her glit- 
tering eye, " Excuse me, madam ; but we are all 
familiar with Walpole's memoirs, and I prefer 
more general conversation at my table." It was 
severe, but such egotistic display of knowledge 
requires heroic treatment. 

I recollect Judge Chase's warning to me when 
entering a dining-room, — " Don't, I beg of you, 
mention TJie Atlantic Moyithly.'''' I had uncon- 
sciously bored him and many others by constant 
quotation from that favorite magazine. 

Avoid too large an acquaintance with new 
books ; like new friends, they may prove worth- 
less or dangerous or tiresome. I carefully avoid 
the ponderous fiction in two or three volumes 



18 TACT. 

laboriously evolved to illustrate conscientiously 
some modern phases of religious or irreligious 
thought, or the home embarrassments brought 
into view by the " new woman " invention ; I 
am proud to say that I do not, and will not, 
attempt to read anything but what I am so in- 
terested in that I must read it. Most authors 
write themselves out. Why waste precious 
hours on their failures, feeble reiterations of one 
great success ? Why pore over the pages of a 
book like George Moore's " Esther Waters," 
which is devoted to portraying the sins and suf- 
ferings and coarse, bestial lives of low, bad, 
vulgar people that we should avoid in real life ? 
Omnivorous devouring of an immense number 
of books, in a careless, half-skipping way, de- 
stroys the mind's power of holding what is worth 
keeping. Last week a lady made the same com- 
plaint to me that she has made for the last ten 
years, " My memory is worthless ; is n't it awful ? 
I studied about Spain one year, and last winter 
our club took up Italian art ; and now it has all 
gone. I look over the books I studied faithfully, 
and they are entirely new to me." We must 
plough deep channels in the brain for thought- 
seed, and allow the seed to germinate, not sow 
over and over till the result is hopelessly mixed 
and futile. 



MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 19 

Never pretend to have read books; you will 
invariably be found out and ridiculed. 

Well, what do I approve ? What advice shall 
I give ? How shall a young man or woman 
make friends of books in the best way ? 

The easiest way to do this is to go " lustrating 
round," as my colored cook said of her minister, 
when pressed to give an account of a sermon. 

There called on me yesterday a young lady 
that has just graduated with high honors at 
college. She was given by the college the 
opportunity to study biology for a year, and is 
now a student at Dartmouth, delighting her in- 
structor by her excellent work. Her sister, still 
in college, excels in mathematics. Her brother 
is a civil engineer, vsddely known in this and 
other countries. It was to him that the directors 
of the World's Fair went when they needed a 
competent man to care for the water-supply, and 
told him to name his own price ; and it is said 
of him that in the various high positions that he 
has held " he has brought out results that com- 
mand the admii'ation of scientists and practical 
engineers wherever the English language is 
spoken." He is still a young man, modest, 
sincerely devoted to his home and all the farm 
interests, as if he were still busy there rather 
than in the laboratory and steadily winning fame. 



20 TACT. 

I visited that home to-day, where these three 
children were brought up, and I questioned the 
mother, whose brilliant dark eyes revealed a 
noble soul and high aspirations, about her early 
methods of education. 

" Did you train a love of knowledge into their 
minds, or was it born there ? " 

She replied : " I began very early to read to 
each child, and I found it better to give them 
food just a little beyond them, rather than below 
their capacity. Every evening, before putting 
them to bed, I read for an hour." 

Ah, you see ? It was the mother that taught 
them to love books, showed them how to make 
"friends of books." But with rare common 
sense farm duties were made equally a part of 
the day's routine, and this was done in so wise 
a way, giving occasional rewards for cheerful 
labor, and occasionally sharing profits, that each 
child loves the farm, and each one knows all 
about the care of the bees and cows and hens 
and crops, the girls gladly relieving the mother 
of drudging tasks. If all mothers on farms or 
in city homes did but half as well, many a puz- 
zling and distressing problem would be solved. 

Some students, whose parents have made great 
exertions to give them a thorough education, 
seem spoiled by contact with books, and look 



MAKING FEIENBS OF BOOKS. 21 

down on the old home and the old way of life, — 
a lamentable folly and sin. Such scholars are 
not real, and will never attain to great heights. 
When one uses books to climb up on, and then 
looks back with a sneer at former simplicity and 
the friends of humbler days, he is a pitiable fool 
and destined to failure. 

Then one must be careful not to make friends 
with the wrong kind of books. From the blood- 
curdling tales of highway desperadoes (which 
have lured many ignorant boys to escapades that 
led to imprisonment) to the seductive, immoral 
novel, or the erratic, erotic poetry of the free- 
thinking, " fleshly school," that gives a roseate 
view of life, where sin is the highest joy, and all 
that is criminal is applauded and defended — 
these are books that should be shunned as the 
deadliest poison, though, like the arsenic in wall- 
paper, their poison may not be seen or feared. 
Life is so short and books so numerous that you 
must early decide what you will do in some 
special department, and stay right there, or you 
will be like a child trying to grasp too many 
playthings. 

A person that has made friends with the best 
books is always welcomed in the best society, and 
can hold his own ; he can support himself, too, 
by their aid, for the world is always on the look- 



22 TACT. 

out for genuine scholars. Poverty is no draw- 
back, but rather a spur. The boys that studied 
by firelight in other days made great men. The 
most successful men I know to-day were all poor 
boys, who made their own way. They would do 
anything to get through college, — groom horses, 
make gardens, be provider for a boarding-house, 
teach those that knew less. 

A college president, about twenty-five years 
ago, saw on his travels a bright-faced, barefooted 
boy, who attracted him. He asked the boy 
whether he would like an education. How those 
eyes flashed with eager response ! He was 
helped along, always a splendid scholar ; and 
to-day he is the leading lawyer in a large city, 
given many honors, and getting tremendous fees. 
He made friends with books. 

Now for a bit out of my own life, to hit the nail 
squarely on the head. I used to study only 
because I was made to, or to please my father, 
with no idea of the value of definite information, 
which is the key of success. One day father re- 
peated to me what he had just said to his class 
in literature, — " Young gentlemen, if you would 
listen attentively to these lectures, and make 
them your own, it would be worth a mine of gold 
for you to draw from. I am giving you a for- 
tune, if you will accept and prize it." 



MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 23 

This sounded strange, and set me to thinking. 
What did I care for old Chaucer ? I liked better 
the conundrum connecting his honored name 
with a tough steak. And Spenser ? Old-fash- 
ioned, unreal, long-spun ! And Milton ? Awfully 
hard to read much of, like toiling up the pyra- 
mids ; and what would an acquaintance with 
these bygones ever amount to ? 

When I was suddenly called upon to earn my 
own support, or to begin to prepare myself for 
that, then how intensely I listened, how faithfully 
I followed suggestions ! These same old authors 
were my best friends. In fact, they made my 
fortune. 

I go to books when tired or nervous, and they 
rest and cheer me ; when worried and anxious, 
and cares are forgotten ; when I am ill or suffer- 
ing, they do me as much good as the doctor. 
They are always the same, never capricious, 
never " hurt," never censorious, never find fault, 
or gossip ; and between the covers of the right 
kind of books you will find the sure road to suc- 
cess. Select a subject, and stick to it, making 
friends of all the books on that theme ; then use 
the knowledge with enthusiasm and tact, and 
your success is certain. 



III. 




FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO 
FOLLOW IT. 

\¥ I answered honestly for myself, I 
should first change the pronoun from 
the neuter to the feminine gender, 
for Fashion, Dame Fashion, is to 
me a capricious woman, a person- 
ality, as mysterious and fully as potent as the 
unpopular " Mrs. Grundy," or individualized pub- 
lic opinion. It is unwise to have a contempt for 
either. The theme uses " apt alliteration's art- 
ful aid " ; so, imitating, I add, " Friends, never 
follow the far-fetched, fleeting, fantastic freaks ; 
the frivolous, farcical follies of Fashion ; with 
frantic fierceness flee from her finical fripper- 
ies ; find firm foundation, rather than fritter 
funds for fringes, frills, feathers, flounces, and 
frightful frocks, fancying you are fascinating, 
when you really are frumps, funny fools at finest 
functions, for all your furbelows and Frenchified 
fixings." 

24 



FASHION, AND HO W FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 25 

" Shawls, ribbons, furs, and furbelows, 
And that's the way the money goes ! " 

And my answer ? I like to keep in the mid- 
dle of the long procession, my ambition in this 
respect being to dress so suitably as to be unno- 
ticed, yet leaving the impression of being con- 
versant with latest styles. " In medio tutissimus 
ihis,'^ — an old Latin proverb recalled from 
school-day studies in Yirgil also tells the story 
as plainly as any guideboard, — " You will go 
most safely in the middle." 

Much more difficult is it to answer the question 
for others. In a general way, shun extremes in 
color, mode, and cut; yet adhere to prevailing 
rules. 

Who make or set the fashion ? Sometimes 
royalty ; by an accident, as when the Prince of 
Wales left his gloves at home, from forgetful- 
ness, when hurrying to some formal reception, 
and no gloves for evening gayeties was the 
dictum for a season. The long, pointed toe, 
the unwieldy, ridiculous, tilting hoop, the im- 
mense sleeve, were all invented originally to con- 
ceal some deformity or defect. Or a woman of 
beauty, with style and a distinguished presence, 
appears in a most striking, dashy combination, 
and by her own powers of fascination makes 
the costume charming. This peculiar cut may 



26 TACT. 

" hit " the public, and will be seen in most ex- 
pensive materials, and copied in cheaper and 
cheaper goods down to a cheviot at five cents a 
yard on " bargain Monday," at a counter for 
goods marked down, absolutely " slaughtered," 
owing to the securing of a large consignment at 
a recent fire in a neighboring city. 

Dressmakers, men and women, plan shrewdly 
to start styles, and then abandon them as " too 
common," necessitating fresh outlay. First, scant 
skirts, so that one's natural swing of step is im- 
peded, and stepping into a carriage is awkward 
business ; next, skirts five yards round ; then, 
overskirts. yes; first outside jackets tight 
as possible, not a pucker; another season, full 
plaits at the back. First long, then short, then 
the other way. It is all for trade, and to get 
our money ; and we poor, imposed-upon mortals, 
with no minds of our own, no courage, at any 
rate, to express them, meekly follow, dancing 
just as the piper plays. We submit to dangerous 
and disgusting burdens, like the bustle, which 
"they" are trying on us again, or skirts for 
summer travel that weigh five pounds, the 
weight principally in the back. We endure a 
" no-pocket regime," and make a bag do a 
pocket's duty. Imagine tailors withholding 
pockets from their patrons ! Do not let us fight 



FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 27 

for the ballot until we dare to strike for one 
pocket. 

We are told by some reigning beauty, perhaps 
of a doubtful class, who is desirous of concealing 
ugly feet, that dresses must trail in dust and 
mire and snowy slush ; and a majority submit, 
gathering dirt, disease, disgusting refuse, under 
the hem of their garments. 

It is equally foolish to copy servilely and 
to lag behind in a superior, indifferent way, as 
if despising entirely the innovations of these 
anonymous leaders. I remember an eccentric 
old lady who used to go to church with a curi- 
ous coalhod of a bonnet, at least twenty years 
behind the times, and a shabby black shawl, on 
which was embroidered, " The fashion of this 
world passeth away." Her appearance was the 
signal for a series of grins and half-suppressed 
chuckles as she passed up the aisle, and her 
influence was for bad rather than good. 

I have had guests whose god was fashion, in 
dress, mannerisms, list of friends, location of 
summer residence, appointments of house and 
equipages ; and their conversation so wearied 
and hypnotized me that I almost lost conscious- 
ness while trying to keep up a simulation of 
interest, an intelligent and sympathetic expres- 
sion, in spite of drooping eyelids, as they went 



28 TACT. 

on and on in this manner : " Yes, it 's strictly 
confidential to you, dear ; but I know Mary her- 
self would tell you. Her daughter is to marry 
next month, and such a splendid fellow ! Money, 
too, in plenty, so they can live in style. He 's a 
well-groomed, fashionable society success, good 
polo-player, is great at golf, leads a cotillon in 
high style ; in a word, he never makes a mistake 
in his necktie ; you know what I mean. It 's to 
be a swell wedding ; they are both in the smart 
set. The presents are beginning to pour in, 
the latest notions in silverware, all solid, of 
course. I'm going down, of course, to the wed- 
ding ; there will be a private car — quite swag- 
ger, you see — for Posie's special friends. I 
shall wear — well, you recollect that old-rose 
satin I brought over last fall (but Paris is al- 
ways one year ahead), trimmed with chiffon of 
lighter shade. No, you have n't seen me since. 
Well, dear, I have decided to make it a little 
more fashionable, and so found the most elegant 
lace, ten dollars a yard ; so you may guess," 
etc. 

terrible ! I begin to think of the short- 
ness, the uncertainty, of life, and how I should 
dread to be called away while .my mind was 
diluted with this drivel ! 

How different from another friend who comes 



FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 29 

to bless me now and then! She has a way all 
her own of arranging her hair, and it suits 
her head and face. Most people look as if they 
never studied the side and back effect of hair- 
dressing or head-gear. She has not changed 
the fashion of her gown and cloak for a dozen 
years ; but they are always of handsome ma- 
terial, and well adapted to her face and figure. 
She does not suggest a fashion-plate, but she is 
quietly elegant, and looks as if she were some- 
body. Her conversation, never egotistic or petty, 
stirs and instructs, inspires, and stimulates, and 
makes me want to grow, and to look upward in 
growing. 

I believe it to be the duty of every man, 
woman, boy, and girl to look as attractive as 
possible. Young people must be allowed pretty 
little additions to their toilet. The middle-aged 
must not grow careless and penurious, or indif- 
ferent to the great effect of becoming attire, at 
home as well as when out in society. Old peo- 
ple, who have plenty of time to adorn and beau- 
tify themselves, should never lose their interest 
in " dressing up " to please the home circle, nor 
should they give up all the lovely colors to youth, 
and wander round in solemn blacks and grays, as 
if only waiting for the grave. 

Funeral fashions, and the prevailing style of 



30 TACT. 

public, expensive, gift-compelling weddings, I 
should like to decry. 

There are fashions in using certain words and 
phrases. Just now we often read about a " far 
cry," " in touch with," " along the line," etc. 

" In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, 
Alike fantastic if too new or old : 
Be not the first by whom the new are tried, 
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside." 

It is easy to moralize, very easy for me to tell 
others all this. Let me confess that I always 
used to lean to fussy trimmings and colors far 
too showy, until taught by artistic friends that I 
should use subdued and' cooling tints as a back- 
ground for my florid face, and that the more 
simply I dressed, the better the effect. And I 
am still learning. 




IV. 
TWO WAYS OF TAKING SORROW. 

" Adjust ourselves to loss, make friends with pain, 
Bind all our shattered hopes, and bid them bloom 
again." 

^E all, in our college days, thought of 
Mrs. Boardman as a most saintly 
and religious woman, a little too 
exact in speech, a little too stately 
and formal in manner, for young 
people to like to be with her much ; but that 
she had the sanctifying grace of God in her 
heart was never doubted. To tell the plain truth, 
she was rather avoided for her very extreme 
goodness, " piosity," one of the girls called it ; 
but we were all delighted to find any excuse, 
however flimsy, to get to dear Mrs. Downs's 
cosey parlor. She was always so bright and 
enlivening, with her merry, sweet-voiced wel- 
come and off-hand style of conversation ! 

O yes, " Aunt Fanny " was " perfectly lovely," 
" an old dear," and we tried her patience beyond 

31 



32 TACT. 

all limits, without doubt, with our egotistic com- 
plaints and experiences. She deserved an aure- 
ole, as I look back on it all ; but we never 
associated such an awesome amount of religion 
with her as with the dignified and severe 
matron of the larger " cottage." 

One day came the sad news of the sudden 
death of Mrs. Boardman's only brother, a dis- 
tinguished clergyman, who had succumbed in- 
stantly to some unsuspected disease of the heart. 
The poor woman lost all semblance of self-con- 
trol or submission. She shrieked and raved, 
refused to allow any justice or goodness in a 
God that would do so cruel a thing as to snatch 
away her brother, her support, her comfort, her 
all. She could see nothing ahead but hopeless 
gloom and wretchedness. She spoke of no one 
else as suffering the same affliction. We inquired 
for his wife and children. " Yes, yes ; they will 
bear up and go on. But how could God have 
taken my darling brother ? " His death she 
regarded as an especial attack on her by the 
Almighty. 

It was a most painful revelation. I shall 
never forget the darkened room, the smell of 
camphor and anodynes, the dismal preparations 
for leaving. She seemed incapable of further 
interest in the students, or of care for anything 



TWO WATS OF TAKING SOBROW. 33 

or anybody but just her rebellious, hysteric self, 
and departed, swathed in the heaviest crape, to 
make others miserable by her lack of submission 
and her weak, unavailing laments. 

Soon after, we were amazed to learn through 
a freshman, who knew all about it, that our 
beloved " Aunt Fanny," who was always help- 
ing us to bear our little trials, had but recently 
passed through the deep waters of affliction. 
She had suffered the loss of her two children 
from scarlet fever, and her husband, while an 
insidious softening of the brain was coming on, 
had so changed his investments of their large 
property that almost all had been swept away. 
She had been obliged to give up her horses and 
carriages and a luxurious home on the finest 
avenue in New York City, while her unfortunate 
husband was still alive, with little brain power 
left, in a hospital for such melancholy incurables. 

" Are you sure it is this Mrs. Downs, our 
sunny-faced, warm-hearted Aunt Fanny ? How 
can she bear this terrible load of sorrow so 
uncomplainingly, carrying such a heavy cross 
with her unflinching acceptance, always think- 
ing of every one of us, never, apparently, of 
herself ? " 

When this became known, we girls, all 
heartily ashamed of our own thoughtless im- 



34 TACT. 

positions upon her time and strength, and yet 
uplifted by so shining a proof of real Christian 
resignation, planned a birthday surprise party in 
her honor. Each brought a pretty gift ; each 
talked merrily, but not of herself. The refresh- 
ments were delicious, and for once in a long 
time Mrs. Downs was ministered unto. Then 
for the first time did we see tears on that beau- 
tiful face, but they were tears of joy and grateful 
surprise at our enthusiastic ovation. 

Better fortune soon came to her through one 
of these student friends, but her blessed influ- 
ence stays and shows fruit in many lives. Hers 
is the true religion. 

Still another bereaved woman that I know has 
worn out her entire circle of friends, appealing 
continually for an audience and for sympathy ; 
going over and over the harrowing details, 
regretting that this had not been said, or that 
had not been done, idealizing the lost one, 
whom in life she judged most severely, until 
her extreme panegyrics seemed almost a ghastly 
joke. No one was ever so afflicted ; no one ever 
had lost so fond a husband. Some one must 
stay close by her, day and night, to examine the 
series of photographs of the departed, to hear 
the last word quoted and analyzed. There was 
no release for any one. Each dreaded the 



TWO WAYS OF TAKING SORROW. 35 

necessary visit, for she drew out all vitality, 
yet seemed incapable of any relief. 

One friend who has just returned from Europe, 
and had been warned of the situation, planned 
a countersiege. She was a bright, unmarried 
woman, almost alone in the world, save for a 
host of friends, and had been obliged to support 
herself for many years. Still, she had a sunny, 
breezy presence ; and no one stopped to think 
that she could ever have any reason to be 
" blue." She wrote me of the interview, and 
how she came off the victor. She said : — 

" Dear Kate : — It is over, and Widow Stearns feels 
that I am the most unfortunate and hardly used being 
she knows of. You see, I went prepared, and took the 
initiative. I greeted her in a subdued, solemn way ; and, 
when she asked what had changed my manner, I poured 
forth a flood of woes, some real, some exaggerated. She 
tried to break in ; it was no use. I went straight along. 
She begged pardon for interrupting, and took up the 
photograph. ' But how fortunate you are, dear Mrs. 
Stearns, to have had such a husband I Think of me in 
my solitary, unloved loneliness. And what would I not 
give now for such faithful photographs of my dear 
parents ! What a lasting sorrow that I could not help 
them as much as I wanted to ! ' I dwelt at length on 
my own diseases, my own failures, my very peculiar 
trials, — just one steady, onroUing, muddy stream of 
doleful egotism. When entu-ely out of breath, I hurried 
out of the door to keep an engagement. And, as I left, 



36 TACT. 

she really wrung my hand and said, 'You poor, dear 
Alice, I do pity you. How you have suffered ! ' It was 
almost too bad to guy her in such a state, but such 
women must be headed off or bottled up, or they will 
kill all their acquaintances." 

Now do not fancy that I argue against one's 
right to show deep feeling and to be secluded 
until the first shock of grief is past. But I 
cannot believe in darkened rooms and darkened 
minds, as if faith and joy vanished at the first 
blow of grief, as frost kills the flowers. There 
is a better way. 

I have the privilege of having as friends three 
women that are now most bravely bearing their 
anguish. One, whose oldest daughter was taken, 
actually wrote to console certain of her most 
sensitive friends, saying to one : " I know how 
you will suffer with me, but try to be cheerful 
for Helen's sake. She would not wish us to 
be prostrated." Another, who had recently lost 
her father, with whom she was closely associated 
in the fondest way, sent flowers, with loving 
thoughts, to those with whom she had been 
accustomed to meet in various engagements, 
and has entered more deeply into her beautiful 
work for destitute children. And the third, a 
young mother, who lost her beautiful boy, 
said, smiling through her tears, " But think 



TWO WAYS OF TAKING SOBBOW. 37 

how I have been blessed above so many women, 
who have never known the ecstasies of a mother ! 
I have had him more than a year. I have been 
very happy." 

Because I know of these rare instances I do 
not mean that I should follow their shining, 
heroic example. Racked recently by rheumatic 
torture, I was not at all brave, and in the feeble- 
ness that follows, I fear I do not always look on 
the bright side. 

But that there are such people in this world, 
who take sorrow almost as a friend, and are not 
only improved by it, but help many others, is 
something to think about. 



V. 



THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 




^UST now gift-making seems to be de- 
generating, among certain classes, 
into a business operation, wandering 
far from the primary definition, — 
" Something voluntarily bestowed, 
without expectation of return." Gifts are now 
expected as appropriate attentions on every 
marked occasion in each luxurious life, from 
that of Baby No. One, who has cut a front tooth, 
or cast off long clothes, or celebrates his first 
birthday, to that of the brilliant " bud " or 
debutante at present raised to the acme of social 
importance, who is just engaged (for the first 
time), and awaits the customary offerings — a 
goddess, " over the teacups." 

" Mamma " confides the news as a great, great 
secret to fifty or more of her most intimate 
friends, and the maiden herself writes on her 
daintiest stationery, " I want you to know how 



TBE AET OF MAKING GIFTS. 39 

happy I am " ; and this would all be blissfully 
beautiful if no answering gift were depended on. 
But there is an unwritten but binding rule between 
the lines ; and, as the recipients of said notes read 
them, they exclaim, " dear ! there 's another 
teacup ! " and a hundred or more dainty, fragile 
teacups are forwarded, — Doulton, Sevres, Royal 
Worcester, Dresden, " Old India blue," or the 
latest novelty, with the warmest congratulations 
of " yours ever devotedly," — and so grateful for 
the confidence ! It becomes, during a season of 
" announcements," a little wearing, if not de- 
pressing and expensive, to feel that, because 
" Pinkie " or " Pearl " or " Birdie " is in the 
seventh heaven of spooneyism, every one to 
whom she repeats the sweet secret must respond 
promptly with a choice gift. It amounts to 
levying a tax on one's friends whenever a young 
pair is mated. That is not the highest idea of 
gifts, certainly. 

Weddings, too, in what is called " society," 
are now a bid for gold and silver and jewels rare. 
Few young men that have not inherited fortunes 
can afford the elaborate, costly, picturesque 
ceremonial ; the gifts that they are expected to 
make, the fees, the expenses of the honeymoon 
trip, often being beyond the reach of a modest 
income. 



40 TACT. 

To be sure, the gifts pour in; nothing less 
than solid silver, cut glass, precious stones is 
valued much, although it is now correct style to 
send a check if it be sufficiently large to be 
shown. Yes, the smart and swagger cliques 
now exchange checks of large amount to such a 
degree that clearing-houses for each city's four 
hundred will be the next necessity. 

It is not among these worldlings that we look 
for the true art of giving. 

At Christmas, the farce of exchanging gifts 
rises to its most unpleasant extravagance among 
those that can easily waste several thousands to 
keep even with their set. But there is always 
dissatisfaction, for some Mrs. Aurear Shekel will 
always exceed the others and assume an envied 
pre-eminence. 

It is not in the most magnificent houses that 
gifts are the most prized or enjoyed. The most 
formal and forlorn Christmas-tide I ever experi- 
enced was spent in a superbly elegant city home, 
where a small fortune had been spent to make 
the day a success. In the morning the gifts 
were duly presented, and the blas^ bachelor 
brother looked perfectly disgusted and really 
angered by the elegant souvenirs from his two 
sisters — an impressive tiger-skin rug, with its 
fierce head, glaring teeth, and danger-suggesting 



THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 41 

claws, and a fine pearl, set with diamonds, for a 
scarf-pin. He looked around lazily, then, with 
a petulant air, exclaimed, " O bother Christmas 
and this nonsense about presents all round ! Now 
I suppose I shall have to pay back " ; and with- 
out a word of thanks he returned to paper and 
cigar. Very ungrateful and ill-bred ; but he was 
a blunt business man, and he regarded all this 
merely as a " quid pro quo." He saw no senti- 
ment, no expression of affection, and certainly 
did not know, or did not practise at home, the 
art of receiving gifts, which is equally important 
with that of making them. I felt uncomfortably 
patronized by the gifts made to me, although 
most kindly meant, as I could not possibly 
return in kind. The big dinner-party was stiff 
and slow, as parties of relatives that do not 
always agree are apt to be, and the impression 
received was anything but that of a "merry 
Christmas." 

Yes, the give-and-take system is overdone: I 
heard a lady say last year as a box was opened : 
" Dear me ! I wrote Mrs. Yacht Operabox that 
I had decided not to make any gifts this year 
outside my own family, and now "will you see 
this candelabrum, almost precisely like the one 
Mrs. Town Houses sent me last year from 
Tiffany's ; it cost exactly sixty dollars, for a 



42 TACT. 

friend priced them for me ; and now I must do 
fully as much for her at New Year's, and pretend 
to be so pleased. "Why did n't she believe me ? " 
The rich usually give to the rich, which is far 
from the highest art in giving, and the gifts are 
gauged by their money value — another direct 
departure from the ideal. 

Then there is a black art by which poor, silly 
souls are lost for the sake of a gift of jewels or 
rich attire, as seen from Marguerite to pretty 
Hetty Sorrel standing before her little looking- 
glass and gazing at her shell-like ears bedecked 
with the earrings from Arthur Donnithorne. 

Emerson said, " Give of thyself " ; and this 
can be interpreted in many ways. Not that 
an author should always present his own books, 
or an artist his pictures, any more than a dealer 
in shoes or woollen goods should send specimens 
of his stock. A woman writer, who delights in 
scribbling, but abhors the needle, once pieced 
together a really handsome silk quilt for her 
best-beloved friend ; and it is valued exceedingly 
just because it is a perpetual testimony to a 
loving sacrifice of time and preference to adorn 
a friend's room. 

Ah ! now we are approaching the fuller mean- 
ing of a gift. To be perfectly harmonious, a gift 
should be the result of loving study of a friend's 



THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 43 

needs and tastes. A little self-denial on the 
part of the giver makes it more precious, and 
the element of surprise must not be left out. 
We all like to untie a mysterious parcel, to 
receive a box we did not expect ; to find that 
some one has been thinking of us, and work- 
ing, perhaps, to please us with needle, pen, or 
brush. 

If those that have abundant means would give 
with delicacy and just the right spirit to those 
that are not considered poor, but have to struggle 
to make a little go a great way and in a great 
many ways, that would brighten many an anxious 
face, and lighten many an overburdened heart at 
the holiday season. If the money wasted yearly 
on bonbonnieres and transient trinkets were 
bestowed in this way — a silk dress here, some 
real lace there, a pretty outfit for a young girl, a 
score of new books for the minister or teacher, 
six months abroad for music or language, or 
what advantages are most longed for, what hope 
and courage that sort of giving would add to 
many a sad life ! 

If a gift is a perfunctory matter, it will be felt 
to be so. Some people refer to what they have 
done for you in this way, which is almost inex- 
cusable ; others give you a painful sense of 
obligation ; still others deprecate their gift unduly. 



44 TACT. 

Let me tell you of two dear little boys, who 
proved last Christmas that they had instinctively 
the art of giving. A lady that lived near them had 
been robbed of all her jewelry while the family 
were at dinner ; a second-story thief had entered 
her room, and all her valuable rings, pins, 
bracelets — all doubly precious from associations 
— were gone. The boys heard of her great loss, 
and they began to save their week's allowance 
instead of spending it; they surprised their 
friends by working in various ways to earn 
money ; but they told no one of their plan until 
a week before Christmas, when their mother was 
let into the secret. She, delighted with their 
spirit^ added to the sum laid up, and on Christ- 
mas morning the two walked up the long drive- 
way that led to the handsome mansion, and, 
pulling at the bell, inquired whether Mrs. Wilson 
was in. 

They were invited in ; and when Mrs. Wilson 
entered the drawing-room the two rose, and, 
bowing politely, offered a small box to her with 
this explanation, " We felt very sorry you lost 
all your pretty pins and rings, and we knew how 
badly you felt about it, so Harry and I just 
brought you the best diamond w& could get with 
our spending-money." It was a slender pin, but 
of real goldj and the diamond was a wee one, but 



THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 45 

it was a genuine diamond. Mrs. Wilson was 
completely overcome, but the boys did not seem 
to feel that they had done anything unusual. 
Their way of giving was a very good way, and 
will bear thinking about. 



THE END. 



]bH » 1^33 



Ssgui 



